


A Proper Seduction

by Dacro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Romance, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-30
Updated: 2005-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacro/pseuds/Dacro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>The Sorting Hat changes history, and several lives, by placing a Weasley in Slytherin. </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saladbats](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=saladbats).



> The reason for the army of betas is because this fic is a birthday gift for _my_ beta and good friend, [](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/)**saladbats**. I couldn’t very well have asked her to edit her own gift, now could I? *laughs* I hope you enjoy this, sweetie! Love you to bits. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Title: A Proper Seduction  
Pairing: H/D – Post Hogwarts  
Rating: PG-13  
Status: completed  
Warnings: implied minor violence and death, flangst  
Summary: **The Sorting Hat changes history, and several lives, by placing a Weasley in Slytherin.**  
Betas: [](http://peeping0x0tom.livejournal.com/profile)[**peeping0x0tom**](http://peeping0x0tom.livejournal.com/) , [](http://moonlite-tryst.livejournal.com/profile)[**moonlite_tryst**](http://moonlite-tryst.livejournal.com/) , [](http://moonlitpages.livejournal.com/profile)[**moonlitpages**](http://moonlitpages.livejournal.com/) , [](http://thwax.livejournal.com/profile)[**thwax**](http://thwax.livejournal.com/) and [](http://maidengurl.livejournal.com/profile)[**maidengurl**](http://maidengurl.livejournal.com/). I have learned so much from each of you. I think you really deserve _way_ more than the nothing I paid you. *glomps* I’m still amazed that you were able to absorb the story while still searching for corrections. I am in awe of you.

Notes: The reason for the army of betas is because this fic is a birthday gift for _my_ beta and good friend, [](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/profile)[**saladbats**](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/). I couldn’t very well have asked her to edit her own gift, now could I? *laughs* I hope you enjoy this, sweetie! Love you to bits. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Working title was A Weasley in Slytherin, but I never really felt it fit. When [](http://maidengurl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://maidengurl.livejournal.com/)**maidengurl** suggested  A Proper Seduction, I was hooked. Title credits to her! Oh, thanks to all of you who voted on how to post this gifty! *hugs*  
Enough with the notes, time for a fic! Your comments are always welcome. *loves*

 

A Proper Seduction

Professor McGonagall peered over the top of her square spectacles and lowered the parchment she had been reading. “Merrill Weasley?” she called out, fixing her eyes on the last First Year student to be sorted.

A young girl, bearing the Weasley signature pale skin and smattering of freckles, but with dark auburn hair, made her way up the stairs and onto the platform.

Draco tilted his head up and slightly back to whisper to the Headmaster, “That’s the fourth Weasley sorted tonight, Severus! Can we not post a limit for next year?”

The girl gave a little wave to the cluster of her relatives seated at the Gryffindor table. Draco observed her tiny hands, imagining the mess she was sure to make of his potions classroom.

“I dream of that day,” Snape whispered back. “At least they are Minerva’s problem, the bulk of the time.”

Draco nodded silently as he watched the Sorting Hat make a grand show of resizing to fit her small head. He silently wished it would stop its ridiculous humming. “True. Good place for the headstrong, Gryffindor. A Weasley wouldn’t last a day in…”

“Slytherin!”

~*~

Draco ran a hand over his hair and tapped his foot impatiently. “Would you explain to me how this happened, Minerva?”

She placed a smudged piece of parchment on a tidy pile and took in a slow breath. “The hat goes on the child,” she started, in a bored tone, “and then it calls out the name of the House the child will occupy for the rest of his or her time at Hogwarts.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, extremely amusing. You know what I’m asking.”

“It’s not uncommon for members of the same family to be sorted into different houses.”

“It is for _Weasleys_!” He threw up his hands, feeling ridiculous in the same moment.

She smiled at him and began marking the next stack of papers. “Change can be very positive, Draco. You know as well as I do that this was not my doing. The hat’s choice was clear.

Draco slumped into a chair. “Fine, as long as you know that the rest of Slytherin will eat her for breakfast. It’s on your head.”

She froze for a moment and set down her quill. “I do believe the safety of all Slytherin students falls under _your_ domain as Head of House, does it not?” she challenged, her gaze never wavering.

Draco swore under his breath. He thought he saw her mouth twitch in victory, but it was gone before he could get a better look. He sunk lower into his chair. “Fine,” he said in defeat. “Whose child is she?” he asked softly. Minerva dipped her quill in the red ink to her left and continued her work.

“I don’t see why that information is important.”

Draco sat up sharply. She was hiding something from him, he knew it. He tried on a charming smile. “If I have to keep her, I’ll need to know which Weasley son I’ll be dealing with. Please tell me it was the one who was Head Boy in my…third year…you know, the one who went potty and was hauled off to St Mungo’s. At least he had some ambition.”

“Her guardians are Molly and Arthur Weasley.”

“So, she does belong to the jelly brain?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised.

Minerva scrunched up her face in mock exasperation. “No. Her mother was Ginny Weasley.”

“I see. Raised these last few years by her grandparents?” Minerva nodded, going back for more ink. “But why does she have the Weasley surname? Did she have the child out of marriage, or marry a cousin?” he asked with increasing interest.

Minerva sighed, “The father gave the child her mother’s name after Ginny’s death…out of respect,” she said with enough conviction that Draco paused a good few minutes before speaking again.

“And where is this noble man who left his child in the care of his wife’s family?”

“He resides in Ireland, I believe. And from what I understand, he isn't home very often. There are rumours that he is quite a decorated wizard, a commander of sorts.”

“Well, that’s promising. Perhaps she was properly sorted after all. Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

“My door is always open, Professor.”

He gave a polite nod and left quickly to greet the newly sorted.

~*~

“From the top, Mr Preston,” Draco addressed the boy standing with his head bowed in front of him.

“I don’t know why she hexed us, Sir. I guess she just didn’t like being sorted into Slytherin,” the boy answered, smiling down at his shoes.

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? Miss Weasley, do you have another version of this boring tale?”

“Yes, Sir. They,” she pointed to the two Third Year students standing a good distance away from her, “hexed me when I tried to leave the common room to go to bed. I just blocked what they threw at me and the hexes bounced back to them,” She shrugged and met his gaze. “I don’t mind Slytherin. Some of the other kids are nice.”

Draco carefully tried to hide his surprise. He watched the boys closely. “You were hit by your own hexes, blocked by a First Year Weasley?”

They kept quiet as Draco stepped closer. “Is that the truth?” he asked as the words echoed off the walls of the small office.

“Yes, Sir,” they answered weakly in unison, their smiles long gone.

“Detention for both of you every night this week with Mr Filch, and a written apology to your new housemate,” Draco ordered.

When he turned back to face Merrill she was wearing the faintest traces of a smirk.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Weasley. I think you’ll do well here.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

~*~

When the news came, he had been reading the last of the sixth year essays on the common uses of Pear Pulp.

The student’s work lay scattered on the floor of his study, forgotten as Draco wove his way through the corridors and stairwells to the Hospital Wing.

Merrill Weasley had collapsed in the entrance hall shortly after breakfast, and then again during her second lesson. The Headmaster’s note had been brief, infuriatingly to the point, and several hours late.

Draco would never admit to it out loud, but over the past few months Merrill had become his secret joy. She had found her place in Slytherin and it was indeed a perfect fit. It had only taken her one night in the dungeons to establish herself as a leader among the first years. She had shown more wisdom and strength than any Weasley he had ever known. She possessed the terrifying ambition and resourcefulness of her twin uncles, and yet Draco constantly saw what growing up surrounded by Gryffindors will produce. She often scoffed in the face of self-preservation, fiercely defending her redheaded clan, and preaching tolerance between the houses.

Draco had long put away his outward denouncement of Muggle-borns, and ‘those less fortunate,’ but still, tradition was tradition and she often pushed the limits of the trusted old ways.

Every once in a while he caught himself wishing, imagining she were his, although he’d never voice it. He could hardly believe she turned out as well as she had without a proper Slytherin influence in her life.

When he reached the doors to the infirmary, he took a moment to compose himself.

Lost in his thoughts, he had walked much faster than he had realized. Taking a few deep breaths to steady his heart, he pressed both palms to the rough doors and quietly pushed forward.

Locked.

Draco frowned and tried again.

Nothing.

He turned sharply to the left at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“My apologies, Professor,” Poppy cheerfully greeted.

He nodded once, politely. “You always lock the doors when you step away?” He turned back to the wood. “I suppose that’s wise.” Her smile thinned slightly, and his question went unanswered.

“I imagine you’d like to see Miss Weasley?” Draco gave a pronounced push on the door again, his patience fading as it refused him once more.

“Yes. I heard she was here, and awake now…” He cursed himself for the concern he knew was clear in his tone. “I’m here to verify that my student is recovering,” he said, steadily. “Do I need an appointment?” She watched him with warm and knowing eyes.

“I’m afraid the she has another visitor at the moment. Come by tomorrow morning – or,” she added, catching sight of Draco’s icy glare, “wait here in the corridor until he leaves. Oh!” Her hand quickly covered her mouth, as her eyes flew wide with surprise. Draco tried to hide his confusion. It was past curfew and he couldn’t think of any other staff member who would deny him, her own head of House, entrance. His eyes narrowed.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked slowly as the woman avoided his gaze. “She’s my student Poppy, I have every right--” She pressed her lips together and stared stubbornly back. He tried the only thing that had ever worked on her before, honesty. “I came to visit a sick girl. I’m not going to make a scene or bother whoever else is there.” The sharpness moved back from her eyes as she ended the door-locking spell.

“Her father is with her, but has to leave shortly.” Draco, interest piqued, reached for the handle. A warm hand quickly blocked him. “You can come in, but lock the door behind you, and tell no one that he was here,” she whispered. Draco sent her a puzzled look. “I assume, since you are her Head of House, that you know his identity?”

“Only that he’s a soldier of some sort. Minerva was annoyingly tight-lipped.” He caught a look of surprise from Poppy, but chose to ignore it. She moved a little closer to him, lowering her voice a bit more.

“They don’t get to spend much time together, so I’m sure you can understand why the need for privacy.” Draco nodded. “When he’s finished, you may have a few minutes with her.”

“Thank you.” It was all he could think of to say as his mind spun with questions. With the way she was behaving, he felt slightly on edge. He wasn’t sure what to expect once he stepped through the doors.

“Remember now, no one outside of the staff must know that he’s been here.” He nodded again, and then nervously smoothed his hands over the front of his robes. She made it sound like he was about to meet the Muggle Prime Minister, so he figured he should at least try to make himself look presentable.

Once inside the dimly lit room, he watched Poppy retreat to her office while he slipped silently into the shadows beside the door to wait patiently. He managed to stay still for almost three minutes. He crept toward the glowing screens surrounding the only occupied bed, walking softly to avoid detection. The two voices were speaking in low tones, but he could still make out every word in the near-vacant room.

“I need to bother your Grandmother for another picture.” The man’s warm voice crept through the air. “You’re getting bigger every day.”

“Dad!” Merrill’s embarrassed cry cut through the fabric and collided with Draco. He smiled.

“It’s true. I wish I could watch you grow up with my own eyes at home and forget about the pictures, but for now…”

“It’s too dangerous. I know.”

“I hope in a few months…”

“Dad, it’s all right. I’m used to it.”

“I’m not. I miss you so much. I keep your pictures safe, but I can’t even carry one with me in case I’m captured. Sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t want you to worry.”

Draco moved quietly into the narrow gap between the screens. He could see Merrill on the bed. Her father was holding one of her small hands with both of his, and his back was to Draco. The man’s voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I’m not worried. You’ll win, Dad, I know it.” Draco watched her move the short distance from the bed into her father’s lap. Draco’s heart and jaw clenched painfully as the man responded instantly to the gesture and buried his face in his daughter's hair. From the way his shoulders were shaking, Draco was almost sure he was crying. He felt more than uncomfortable standing there, witnessing this tender and very private moment, but the room had grown so silent that his retreat would be detected instantly.

When her father spoke again, his voice was rather shaky. “Headmaster Snape told me what happened this morning, and that you were all right, but when he sent the second message, saying that it took you a long time to wake up after it happened again…I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but Draco noticed the man's arms tighten a little more around her. “Merrill, you’re my whole world, you know that, right?”

She turned, kneeling on his legs and faced him. She kissed his cheek and then wrapped him in a hug, burying her head into his shoulder. “I’m alright now, really,” her voice muffled in the fabric. She lifted her head and looked back at him. “Madame Pomfrey told you, it was just too much sun yesterday, not enough food today, that’s all.” Draco watched him nod. “I was reading something and forgot to eat breakfast. It won’t happen again.” He moved forward to kiss her nose.

“Good.” They were quiet for a while as Merrill turned back around to settle against his chest. “So… how do you like Slytherin? Grandma Molly had to tell me twice. I didn’t believe her.” Merrill chuckled.

“I like it! Professor Malfoy is amazing!” Draco couldn’t help the smile that surfaced.

“Is he?”

“Yeah. Tough sometimes, but always fair, and he tells me the truth about everything,” she said, brightly.

“I went to school with him, you know. He was a bit different then.”

Draco nearly bumped his face against the bars holding the screens in place. So they _had_ met. He tried to move into a better position to see a bit of profile, but he was unfortunately directly behind the man, and didn’t want to risk walking to a new vantage point. He was already feeling like an intruder.

Merrill shifted on her father’s lap and rested her head back on his shoulder. “It was weird at first, being the only Weasley in Slytherin, but it kind of makes me feel special.”

“I never told you, but I was almost a Slytherin too.”

Draco’s eyebrows lifted.

“Really?” she asked, sounding thrilled. He nodded.

“The Hat changed its mind at the last minute and put me into Gryffindor, same as your mum, one year later.”

 _He was in my year!_ Draco thought as his mind flipped through all the Gryffindor faces he could remember. _Longbottom, Finnigan, Weasley, Thomas--_ Draco inhaled sharply as the last Gryffindor name and face moved to the front of his list.

“Oh gods, Potter!”

Two sets of green eyes met his. Draco hadn’t noticed Potter drawing his wand as he turned his body to shield the child in his lap, but he was quickly tucking it away and back up his sleeve before his daughter noticed the defensive tactic.

“Malfoy,” he said with almost no emotion, although his chest was moving rapidly. Draco, still trying to sort things out in his head, stepped around the screen and nodded once in greeting.

“Potter.”

Merrill paled.

“Professor, please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered. Draco put on his most calming and sincere smile, and gave a nod.

“Certainly, Miss Weasley, and my apologies for interrupting. I only came to see if you were feeling better.” She smiled back, colour quickly returning to her face.

“It’s fine, I have to be going anyway,” Potter announced. Merrill made a disappointed sound.

“No,” she pleaded softly. “It hasn’t even been an hour yet.”

Draco had never seen her beg for anything. If she were his child, he would have a hard time denying her whatever she wanted. He was struck with conflicting emotions of pity and envy as he thought about Potter’s life.

His opinions of Potter had changed many times over the years. He had even worked with the man on occasion, but had seen very little of him since the side that fought against Voldemort had spilt into two factions. Potter’s team, the ‘Hunting Party’, went underground with the Aurors-- constantly moving and tracking, luring the Dark Lord away from the populated areas. The remaining team, the ‘Watchers’, used their skills as Professors, leaders, and business professionals to maintain order within the community as a whole.

Draco had been asked by Potter himself to stay at Hogwarts to protect Severus from Death Eater backlash when his status as a spy had been revealed. Potter had optimistically guessed Draco’s stay wouldn’t need to be any longer than a year. Eleven years later he still held his post, his young life already behind him. Part of him wanted blame it all on Harry, but there was something else inside of him that had already taken care of any bitterness he had initially felt.

Potter had lost even more than he had to this war-- his entire life, and Draco could see it plainly. The fighting and hiding, the months and years spent away from his only remaining family was wearing him down. His once tanned skin hadn’t seen sunlight in a while, and his eyes seemed tired and too old for someone just shy of thirty. It was even more apparent when Potter looked at his child. Draco could read the regret like a Potions text -- birthdays, holidays, milestones, all missed.

“I’ll have some tea brought in for you,” Draco said before properly thinking about what he was doing. Merrill's eyes lit up.

“Dad, please stay, just until we’ve had our tea?” Potter gave her a weary smile and sat back down.

“All right.” She smiled and climbed back into bed. “I don’t imagine my team would disagree to tea with my girlfriend.” He winked.

Draco’s heart was clenched in that strange way again, but this time it wasn’t painful-- more of a warm tightness. Merrill rolled her eyes and blushed the same way Draco remembered her father used to when he was embarrassed.

“Dad!”

Before Draco could turn to summon a house elf to bring the tea, Harry caught his gaze.

“Join us?”

~*~

They continued to talk quietly, even after Merrill had fallen asleep holding her father’s hand.

They took turns asking polite questions and filling in the blanks for each other. Harry craved information about his daughter’s first year at Hogwarts, and Draco provided it. In return, Harry put paid to the rumours surrounding how she came into existence.

Draco already knew of the long friendship Harry had shared with Ginny, her insistence on joining the Order when she came of age, and her desire to become an Auror. What he didn’t know was how they had ended up parents in the middle of a war.

Draco watched the cup shake slightly as Harry took him back to just before leaving Hogwarts, when the war had started to turn nasty and their childhoods were quickly tucked away. He fought beside Ginny quite often, and found that she was almost as good on the battlefield as he was. Their friendship deepened, and one night after a near capture, they found comfort together. He said Ginny used to call it the best mistake they ever made.

Draco could see Harry’s guilt and exhaustion as he talked about Ginny moving back with her parents, making up a story to give people who might inquire about her _state_ , and giving the same story to the Ministry officials when they asked her. Harry left out the details of the night Merrill was conceived, but told Draco that when she was born on his nineteenth birthday, he couldn’t have been more overjoyed…or terrified.

Draco listened intently, understanding fully the need for secrecy. Anyone identified as being ‘with’ Potter’s child would be a more than tempting target for the other side. It seemed a pity that even after all the precautions, Ginny still did not live past her daughter’s first birthday.

Draco had heard about her death at Grimmauld Place. Death Eaters had somehow broken through the floo wards and surprised her while Harry was sleeping on the couch. Without hesitation, she stepped in front of the curse intended for him. Draco didn’t press for details, and Harry didn’t offer any. All he knew was that after the attack, the Order had been divided in two and Harry had gone into ‘hiding.’

Draco imagined that Harry blamed himself for that as well.

He set down his empty teacup.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Harry rubbed at his forehead with his free hand, suddenly looking much older.

“I don’t know, really.” He shrugged. “I guess it was just time for me to tell someone. I’ve seen you change, and heard about some of the things you’ve done here…and I know you’ve lost just as much as I have in this war. I see from the way you treat Merrill, and the way she trusts you, that I don’t have anything to worry about.” He gave a tired smile. “I hope.” Draco nodded.

“You’re right, you don’t have to worry.”

“I think it’s this damn castle too.” He looked up and around. “For some reason I always feel sentimental and chatty when I’m here.” He choked out a soft laugh, and Draco thought it was a beautiful sound. Harry stood, softly kissed his daughter’s forehead, freed his hand from her grasp, and extended it to Draco.

“Thank you.”

Draco shook the offered hand, but couldn’t think of anything more to say. He sat back down in a daze as Harry pulled on his cloak, raised the hood, and walked out of the enclosure.

Draco continued to watch the sleeping child long after the echo of Harry’s footsteps had faded.

~*~

“I’ve done it, Severus. I’ve fallen in love with a straight man.”

“Hardly a new announcement.”

Draco fell into the chair opposite Severus’ desk, ignoring the raised eyebrow he received for his bad posture.

“Who is it this time?”

Draco put his head in his hands and mumbled out an answer. “A single father.” His fingers spread out and he peered through the openings. “One of my student’s fathers,” he groaned into his palms. “Such an idiot!”

“An idiot? My, your standards _have_ dropped.” Draco lifted his head and shot an un-amused glare at Severus.

“Not him; me. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

The thin lips curled into a smirk. “Yes, well, it is indeed a sad testament to my life when your neurotic behaviour becomes the highlight of my day.”

“Well, you’d be even more amused if you knew who it was. He’s quite high-profile.”

“That encompasses most of your students’ fathers,” he replied, glancing over at an open text on his desk.

“Famous,” Draco muttered, sulkily.

“Indeed?”

“Merrill’s father.”

He hadn’t mentioned any names, but as soon as he confessed to Severus, Draco felt as if he had already broken his promise to conceal Harry’s identity. His heart sank.

“So, you’ve finally met the mystery man?” Severus asked, setting down his quill, and summoning a pot of tea.

“Oh, yes.” Draco silently cursed the flush he could feel rising on his pale cheeks.

“Tea?” Severus asked. Draco reached out for the steaming cup, trying to hide his pink face behind it. Snape sat forward, stirring his tea slowly.

“So, how is Mr Potter?”

The china slipped through Draco’s fingers on its short journey to the stone floor.

~*~

In the months that followed, Draco managed to keep his mind off Potter, except when drinking tea, watching Merrill’s green eyes, or reading the sporadic letters he received from the man. Most times the letters opened with inquiries about his daughter, and finished with mention of random daily happenings that would never disclose his identity, location, or current assignment.

In spite of their less than spotless history, Draco was fast becoming, (in Severus’ words) the “pitiful lovesick pen pal of the Wizarding world’s tragic hero, and practical step-father to said hero’s child.”

Draco imagined his own father laughing at him from wherever he was currently burning.

Since the night in the hospital wing, Merrill had become a constant figure in his office. She had several of her own friends, but she seemed to prefer working on her assignments alone in Draco’s office. He quickly discovered another reason for her regular presence.

They shared a secret.

Potter.

When her work was completed, or when she could no longer keep her eyes focused on her books, she would slowly pack up her things while asking a few questions. Since finding out that Draco and Harry had known each other at school, the inquiries had increased.

He thought about keeping his distance lest his disturbing feelings for Potter became obvious, but found he rather enjoyed reliving nearly forgotten Quidditch matches and describing what Headmaster Snape was like as a Potions professor. He had considered shining up his own tarnished past in the tales of himself and Potter, but then decided on telling the fairest version he could recollect. It was quite the task to attempt to see each event through Harry’s eyes as well as his own, but he came to enjoy the process when he witnessed the constant wonderstruck look on the face of his young audience.

In the wake of his family’s imprisonment and death, Draco’s days of blind devotion to any faction were long gone. He had to teach himself the basics of balance and tolerance after unexpected individuals had shown him mercy and trust when his _good name_ had been the most tarnished. People like Snape, who risked more than he should have when he approached a directionless young Malfoy and offered him a way out.

Merrill loved the stories of how her family history was rooted at Hogwarts, and she never tired of hearing about her paternal grandparents. Draco mostly directed her to books and other school records for information, but he did mention that Harry’s invisibility cloak had belonged to her Grandfather James and that it was said that Harry had his Mother’s eyes.

The same green eyes Merrill shared with her Father.

She had smiled for days after that particular visit.

What surprised Draco the most was how little she knew about who her father actually _was_ and his specific role in the war. From what he could deduce, her grandparents believed in plausible deniability as their method of protecting her. He didn’t agree with keeping information from her, especially if Potter were to die in his efforts to rid the world of the Dark Lord. She would find out then and be furious with her guardians. Still, he respected their decision and kept a tight lip about the Prophecy and the rather tempting price on Harry’s head.

Draco’s knowledge came to abrupt halt when Merrill suddenly started asking for stories about Ginny. Most of the time he almost forgot that the child he adored was also a Weasley, but he told what little he could remember and then sent her to ask Minerva.

~*~

The parchment he had been reading fell, as if in slow motion, back to the desktop as Merrill burst through the door of his study. She was waving a letter of her own, announcing that her father would be coming to the castle for a few days around the Easter Holiday.

Draco had just been reading a similar letter from Harry himself. They were never signed, but he had long since learned to identify the sloppy scrawl, and the slanted P’s.

~*~

Merrill was thrilled and nearly wore Draco thin with her enthusiasm as the holiday crept nearer. Severus was no help at all, dropping sarcastic or suggestive remarks whenever secret arrangements for the ‘special guest’ were mentioned around the staff room.

Draco had his anxiety to deal with. Harry had asked him to dinner. It had been worded to seem like a parent/professor meeting, but there would be food, an empty room and Potter involved.

Beautiful, not-gay, Potter.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Draco emerged from the stairwell into the entrance hall and pulled on his new leather gloves, inhaling the strong scent. Tugging one of the main doors open, he nearly collided with someone who appeared to be coming in at the same time as he was leaving. He barely spared the man a second glance, but froze with a start when his brain registered that the figure was neither staff nor student. He spun toward the man, his coaching cloak swirling around his knees. 

“May I help you?” Draco’s voice was icy and sharp, but the man just smiled politely.

“I’m fond of Quidditch, and I heard there was a practice this afternoon. I’ve heard good things about the Slytherin team,” the man answered. 

Draco looked him over. He was just standing there, smiling, in unremarkable dusty-blue robes and sounding…Welsh. Draco’s suspicion kicked up a notch.

“There are no reporters or scouts allowed on the grounds without a formal invitation,” he recited, watching the man’s hands in case he went for his wand. “The safety of our students --”

Draco forgot what he was saying as the man suddenly reached for his arm. He jumped backward and lost his footing. Within a second, the stranger had a firm grip on both his forearms and was pulling him safely back onto the top step of the stairs.

They were both breathing hard as the man gave his arms a squeeze. Draco’s eyes grew wide, and he readied himself for explosion.

“Draco, it’s me, Harry.” 

Eyes wider still, Draco took a ragged breath and sputtered out a reply. 

“That’s a horrible disguise,” he said, unconvincingly as Harry dropped his arms. “Why doesn’t it sound like you?”

“If someone knew my voice they could pick me out, so, I’ve been learning different dialects,” Harry whispered in his own voice. “Are you coaching today?”

“Oh. What? Coaching, yes,” Draco stammered, trying to gather himself up for the rest of the conversation. “Rolanda gets the other two teams and I get Ravenclaw and Slytherin.” Harry smoothed his hand over the sandy blonde hair of the glamour, still smiling. Draco wished he would drop the spell, but knew it would have to remain while they were in plain view of…everyone, really. 

“How is she?” Harry asked.

“Hooch?”

“No, Merrill,” Harry laughed. “Although we can talk about Hooch if you’d rather.”

“Amusing,” Draco nodded toward the pitch. “Walk with me? Merrill has been driving me to insanity with her excitement since you sent that letter. Why did you feel the need to tell her so soon?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait.”

“Just as bad as she is,” he smirked into the setting sun. “No patience.”

Harry tucked his hands into his pockets. “Put that on my grave stone?”

Draco chuckled. “Done.”

They walked quietly, taking their time.

“She’s well,” Draco said softly. “Top of her class in Charms, History of Magic and Potions.”

“I was always pants at the last two,” Harry said, shaking his head as if the memory would come free. “Divination was worse, though.”

“I remember.” Draco glanced over, expecting to see Harry and still not used to the glamour. “Where did you find that face, anyway? It doesn’t suit you.”

Harry shrugged. “That’s the point, isn’t it? We still on for dinner?”

Draco tried to nod and swallow at the same time. The skin around his collar was suddenly very warm and uncomfortable. Harry smiled. 

“Good. Tomorrow, then? I’d like some time with Merrill tonight.”

“Of course.” Draco stopped walking for a moment, but Harry kept on, moving a few steps ahead of him. Draco couldn’t help but notice the telltale stride. He smiled at the reminder of the ‘real’ Harry until his mind prodded his body to walk again.

~*~

Draco’s fork clattered off the rim of his china plate, sending bits of broccoli and cheese onto the tablecloth.

“I’m sorry, what?” Draco choked on whatever he had been about to swallow, quickly covering his mouth with the napkin from his lap.

“Would you consider becoming Merrill’s legal guardian?” Harry half-stood as Draco continued to cough. “On paper only,” he added, “unless anything happened to me.” Draco froze and stared back at Harry, the corners of his eyes wet from choking.

“What?” he repeated. It was all he could manage, still trying to catch his breath.

“You all right?” Harry asked, paling slightly with concern on his face. Draco nodded, took a sip of water and watched Harry sit back down.

“She likes you, and I believe you care about her too, about her future.”

“Yes, but her grandparents...”

“…are getting older, and they can’t protect her the way they used to. When something happens to me, at least I know you’ll make sure she grows up safe…whatever the outcome of the war.”

Draco’s stomach threatened to return his recent meal as Harry’s words rattled around in his head. _When something happens to me._

**_When._ **

Draco swallowed and looked down at the mess on the tablecloth.

“You’re not here on holiday, are you?” he asked, pointlessly poking the spilt food with a spoon. Harry got up from the table and walked slowly to the fireplace. Draco could hear him pulling his hands through his hair. Draco sighed, “I know a ‘goodbye’ when I hear it, Potter.” His voice hardened as he sat up and stared at Harry’s back. “What’s happened?” he asked, pushing out from the table.

“I know how to kill Voldemort,” Harry whispered, almost too low, but Draco heard every word. 

“You have a new weapon?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then wha…” Draco stopped himself and decided just to listen.

“I’ve known what has to be done for a while now, but I’ve been putting it off as long as possible.” 

He placed his hands on the mantle and lowered his head. Draco watched the pale fabric of Harry’s shirt move over the muscles in his back as he exhaled slowly.

“We have to die together… I have to kill us both.”

Draco stopped breathing.

“The longer I live, the longer he does too. I’ve felt it for years.” His voice shook slightly. “If it wasn’t for Merrill, I would have ended this long ago. I kept thinking I could find a different solution, but nothing’s worked.” He turned around slowly.

At the sight of Harry’s wet eyes, Draco released the breath he’d been holding.

“Please…” Harry struggled with the word, fruitlessly wiping a knuckle along the damp skin just under his right eye. “Tell me you’ll provide for her, promise me she’ll survive.” 

Draco’s chest constricted his breathing and his jaw was becoming so tight it bordered on painful. He could only stare at Harry, who was looking less like a hero and more like a broken-hearted father.

A father giving up his only child.

“All right, yes. I’ll sign whatever you want, I’ll protect her, just…sit down, please.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, sinking into one of the soft chairs by the fire. Draco didn't know how the man could look at peace and yet almost terrified at the same time. He moved to the empty chair opposite Harry. They sat in silence as Harry dried his eyes and stared into the flames.

“I guess it’s my turn for a confession,” Draco announced, pulling at a loose thread on the arm of the chair.

Harry half-chuckled, “You have something to confess?”

“Actually, I do.” He smiled, thankful that Harry seemed to be relaxing again.

“Go on then, what’s your news?”

“Well, as it turns out…” He paused to pull his chair a little closer to Harry’s. “I have fallen in love.” The laughter vanished from Harry’s eyes, but Draco pretended not to see it.

“Really?” he asked, glancing back toward the hearth, "congratulations."

“Indeed. But I doubt if anything will come of it.”

“Oh. Do I know – No, it’s none of my business.”

“As a matter of fact, you do. He’s a beautiful, troubled father of one of my students, who has just informed me that he plans to give me his child because he doesn’t think he’ll be alive much longer,” Draco said quickly. Harry’s mouth fell open, but quickly snapped shut. Draco watched the surprise register on his face. “Oh, and I think he’s straight,” he finished with a dramatic sigh.

“What?” Harry asked, with something like wonder colouring his tone.

“Yes, I’ve always had rotten luck with men.”

Harry swallowed and pulled his chair forward until their knees were almost touching. It was Draco’s turn to be surprised.

“Maybe just bad timing,” Harry whispered, as Draco felt his body growing warm all over. “I think I might know him…but some of your information is wrong.” Harry’s hand slid slowly off his knee and onto Draco’s, covering the long fingers waiting there.

“Wrong?” Draco forced his words out through his shock, “Which parts?”

“Beautiful and straight. I haven’t had a lot of time to explore the second one, but I think I’ve always known,” he smiled shyly, and squeezed the hand under his own. 

“I’d be willing to help you, explore…” Draco could barely manage anything louder than a whisper as his heart started pounding in his ears, and his lungs didn’t seem to want to do their job any more, “…but I’m still going to fight you on the first one.”

Harry’s reply was lost or caught somewhere between their lips as they found each other. Draco didn’t quite believe that he wasn’t dreaming, so he moved his free hand onto Harry’s knee and squeezed, just to make sure there was a real person under the fabric. When Harry made the most delicious low moan, Draco’s body decided that was confirmation enough for him.

The food lay forgotten on the table as Harry suddenly grabbed two fistfuls of Draco’s expensive shirt and gave a sturdy tug. The next moment, Draco felt himself being pulled out of his chair and then lowered onto his back in front of the fireplace with Harry half-kneeling above him. Harry dove in for a stunning kiss and Draco arched against him without shame. 

Draco parted his legs slightly, allowing Harry to settle even closer against him, and wound his arm up until it was buried in a mess of dark hair, pulling Harry’s still-wet lips back down to his own and whispering over warm skin.

“I usually demand extravagant gifts and a written note of intent, but this will do,” Draco teased.

Harry pulled back and froze. Draco’s chest grew painfully tight again as he helplessly watched a look of disgust appear on Harry’s face.

“What? Whatever it was, I take it back. I’m sorry. Harry?” At the sound of his name, Harry quickly untangled himself and stood, leaving Draco shivering on the floor.

“I’m an idiot! What am I doing?” Harry muttered to himself, crossing to the other side of the room. He paced there as Draco picked himself up, brushed off his robes and slid his Malfoy mask back into place, wiping away any outward emotion. He had forgotten how much rejection stung, but it wasn’t as if it was the first time. He faced the hearth and tried to calm his nerves.

His focus was broken when Harry suddenly appeared behind him, wrapping warm fingers around his shoulders. Draco couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him, but he kept his eyes on the spot of floor their bodies had just occupied. The moment was already beginning to fade from his memory, but his body wasn’t so eager to forget. He could feel the heat from Harry’s chest, as he pressed closer, creeping little by little through the back of Draco’s shirt.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t quite go how I planned.” 

Draco grunted something unintelligible and held his stance. Harry rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder. 

“Why do you think I’ve been writing to you all this time?”

“To secure a substitute father for your child, obviously,” Draco snapped.

“Partly,” Harry answered softly. “It’s more than that though. Since we left school I’ve been watching you, trying to learn more about you, more than what I’d seen in the past. I wanted to know who, what you are.”

“And what am I?”

“Misunderstood,” he whispered. Draco spun, words ready in protest, but they somehow melted away on Harry’s tongue as his mouth was captured again.

“Just like me,” he breathed against Draco’s lips. “You’re so much more than people give you credit for.” 

Draco did nothing to stop the hands that came up to cradle his face, but silently demanded that his own arms stay down. In direct disobedience, they twitched once, and then quickly slid up Harry’s sides.

“So…you _do_ want me, then?”

“Gods, yes, Draco. I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you since seventh year. It was just never the right time to tell you and I couldn’t risk that Merrill wouldn’t be discovered, but I’ve always wanted you. Always.” Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the tug at his heart. 

“Then why did I find myself alone on the floor just now?” Harry looked uncomfortable, but continued to smooth his thumbs over Draco’s cheekbones. 

“Because,” he whispered, closing his eyes, as if searching for information. “If we did more than just…” For someone who had thrown him to the floor a few minutes ago, Draco couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at how suddenly nervous Harry now seemed to be.

“You’d have regrets in the morning. I understand,” Draco said, sounding more bitter than he intended. Harry’s eyes flew open at Draco’s words. 

“No, I…” he sighed, sliding his hands down until they were resting on Draco’s shoulders again. “Since our last visit, I haven’t been able to think of much else,” Harry confessed, looking directly at Draco. He pulled one hand nervously through his hair and started again. “You remember what I asked you tonight…about Merrill?”

Draco went cold, “Yes.”

“If we…if you and I…”

“Spit it out, Harry.”

“I need you to be strong for her.” 

“And I will. What’s this really about?”

“It would be wrong to start a relationship with you…knowing I’m not coming back.” Draco sighed and let his forehead fall forward, until it rested against Harry’s.

“Then come back. Come back for both of us.”

~*~

Somehow Merrill knew something wasn’t right with the way her father had said goodbye.

“He cried.”

“I know,” Draco answered. She kneeled up on the sofa and shuffled closer. 

“He told me you would take care of me.”

“I will,” he said with conviction.

“He said he loves us both.”

Draco shifted his eyes to the floor, trying not to look at her. He could only nod in reply. Small fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Draco’s pained silence was answer enough.

It was two full days before he could talk her out of her dormitory, and three before he could force her to eat.

~*~

The spring came and went.

Merrill tried her best to stay focused on her schoolwork, but spent most evenings curled against Draco’s side on the sofa in his sitting room. Draco had long since stopped enforcing the Professor/student boundaries with her in private, allowing her to think of him as ‘family’ and trying to give her what little of a childhood she had left.

Some of the staff raised a few eyebrows until Severus and Minerva called a discreet meeting to clarify information and put an end to inappropriate rumours. Harry’s identity and wishes regarding Merrill had been carefully revealed, but very few questions were allowed about why Draco was now the girl’s guardian.

For his own part, Draco kept most of his fears and doubts to himself. Severus and Minerva would often send him small notes of encouragement or share concerned glances over meals.

He wished that he could be where Harry was, or at least know more of the team’s progress than he did. Harry’s letters had stopped after he came to the castle, and word from the Order was never very telling. Draco knew he was becoming withdrawn, choosing to spend most of his free time in his rooms reading to Merrill, or locked in his bedroom with his memories. He didn’t care what others thought.

That last night with Harry-- when they had talked, shared a meal, confessed, kissed, fought-- played through his mind at least once a day. He could picture everything perfectly, from the colour and smell of the fire to the feel and taste of Harry’s mouth against his own.

He couldn’t decide if he cherished or regretted the fact that they hadn’t made love. Holding and talking seemed more important at the time. Now, though, Draco imagined he would surrender almost anything just to have Harry’s hand entwined in his for one more moment as their bodies moved together, or hear his name slip once more from Harry's lips.

On the last day of the term, he received two letters. The first, from Arthur and Molly Weasley, requested that Severus and Draco allow Merrill to stay within the safety of the castle during the summer holiday, and formally declared that Draco was now her legal guardian. The second was from Gringotts, explaining that papers would need to be signed in order to properly accommodate Mr Potter’s wishes to put Draco in charge of both his and Merrill’s finances.

Draco asked Minerva to care for Merrill for the weekend, and locked himself and his grief away in his rooms. Even Severus couldn’t find a way around the wards.

~*~

Draco and Merrill looked up suddenly as the floo activated, erupting into green flames.

“He’s alive! Poppy has him in a private room near the infirmary,” Minerva announced, sounding out of breath. “You can come through my office.”

They were both running for the fireplace before Minerva had finished her sentence.

~*~

The summer was nearly over, and yet, any season would have gone unnoticed to the few people who never left the Hospital wing. To these few there only seemed to be two things that mattered -- Harry was still in a coma, and Voldemort was dead. 

Deemed by Severus to be more secure than St Mungo’s if any remaining Death Eaters wished retaliation, Harry had been moved along with a team of healers to the safety of the castle.

According to the Veritaserum confessions of several captured Death Eaters, there had been a gathering to plan the kidnapping of a few Hogwarts students, in hopes of luring Harry into a battle. The Dark Lord had been listening to the list of targeted families, when he suddenly grabbed at his chest and began to wail in pain.

Some said they heard Harry’s voice, some saw a flash of green light coming out from under Voldemort’s clenched fist, and yet still others confessed to seeing a familiar lightning bolt shaped scar appear for a moment on the Dark Lord’s forehead before he slid lifeless to the floor.

From the reports that had been streaming in, all of them with slightly different information, the Order and medical staff had determined that Harry must have turned his wand on himself while uttering the killing curse.

The strangest testimony, from Harry’s own team members, was that he had used the Unforgivable while alone in his own room and nowhere near the place where Voldemort had been hiding. They heard Harry’s screams and had found him a few minutes later, unconscious, near death, but still breathing…somehow.

The Prophet hailed him as a _selfless hero_ , while whispers around the Order and Ministry carried words like _suicidal_ and _unhinged_.

~*~

The days came and went, as did the few close friends who had been permitted to visit Harry’s private room. Molly brought warm hugs and sweets for everyone, and Arthur came every morning to read selected sections of _the Prophet_ to Harry and to hold his granddaughter.

Draco had conjured himself a bed beside Harry’s and slept there from the first day he had been brought in. Merrill alternated between curling up in Harry’s bed and sleeping in her own small cot beside Draco’s. 

The press were never allowed into the room, and as the days wore on, the protest from the few persistent reporters faded once news of the next Quidditch World Cup was announced.

~*~

Draco opened his eyes slowly and lifted his head. His neck ached from falling asleep while sitting on a hard chair by Harry’s bedside. The fingers still clutched in his hand twitched and then stilled. Draco stared at them, and then threw his gaze over to Harry’s forever-closed eyelids.

They were moving.

Breath escaped Draco’s lungs as Harry squinted at the light surrounding the bed.

“Nox,” Draco commanded. The artificial lights flickered and faded, leaving only the natural grey haze of very early morning from the window at the head of the bed. “Harry.” Draco could hardly find the air to form words as he moved in closer, and reverently brushed the dark fringe out of Harry’s eyes with unsteady fingers. “Gods, I thought that you’d never…”

Harry made an effort to speak, but nothing came out except a weak moan, although Draco could see his lips trying to shape it into something coherent. He could also see the pain and frustration reflected back in the green eyes he saw every night when he closed his own.

But _this_ wasn’t a dream.

He moved without a thought to the dresser that held the water tray to get Harry something to drink. After knocking two glasses to the floor and overflowing the third, he used both hands to bring the liquid to Harry’s lips. It poured out too quickly, and some trickled down the side of his face and over his chin. Draco removed the glass and firmly rubbed his hand over the muscles of Harry’s stiff throat.

“That’s it, swallow. You’re all right,” he encouraged, setting the glass down and spotting Harry’s bed linen with a few tears. He wiped them away, not wanting Harry to notice his emotion and start to worry.

Harry choked and spit up most of the first mouthful, but did manage to swallow a little. The second attempt went much better and Harry forced himself to swallow again as Draco wiped up the water from his chin.

“Draco?” The word was lost in a coughing fit, but Harry soon gained control and tried to smile. Draco dropped the napkin and sat down hard in the chair. After months of waiting, Harry’s voice caused him to feel too many emotions all at once. He wanted to yell and kiss and scold and protect, but all his body would allow him to do was fall forward and weep freely into Harry’s upturned palm. At that moment, he didn’t care if anyone was watching.

Harry was awake. Draco didn’t have time for pride or appearances.

He took in a sharp breath when Harry’s free hand wound shaky fingers around his neglected hair. 

“How long?” Harry asked, coughing less than the first attempt.

“Almost two months,” Draco answered, kissing the damp skin under his lips. He turned his face to the side and lifted his eyes until they met with Harry’s.

“You could have at least given me a warning. I’m not washed or shaven,” he made a feeble attempt at humour, although his chest felt like it would burst at any moment.

“You look good to me,” Harry’s smile softened, and his fingers continued to wrap around the pale hair that had grown quite a bit since he last saw it. Draco sat up slowly and helped Harry to more water. As he was about to remove the glass again, Harry touched his wrist.

“Was it worth -- did it work?” he asked, looking as if he were bracing himself for the answer. Draco removed the water and took the hand back in his, ignoring the look of confusion on Harry’s face. He pressed Harry’s fingers over the place where his famous scar had once been. 

Harry gasped, all the colour drained from his face.

“He’s dead, Harry. You were right.” Draco watched as relief washed over Harry.

“Merrill?”

Draco kissed Harry’s knuckles lightly. 

“She’s fine. Safe. Worried about her father.” Draco felt his eyes threaten to spill again as wet trails wandered down the side of Harry’s face.

“This whole time…you stayed with me?” Draco nodded. 

“Merrill too. Poppy let us sleep here…after some convincing.” 

“Draco…believe me, I didn’t want to leave either of you…” Harry confessed as he began to shake.

“Shhh…we know. We would have understood even if -- We don’t blame you, Harry.”

“Why am I not dead?”

Draco sat back slightly and smiled, giving Harry’s hand a squeeze. “There are two theories. The curse breakers came up with something they call the intent theory. They believe because you really meant the words of the curse and directed them at Voldemort, through your own body, you were successful in killing him. Their explaination for your survival is that you really didn’t mean the words for yourself, so you received a lesser blast.”

“Oh. And people are believing this?”

“It’s what the Ministry has fed the papers, so…yes. Do you want to hear my view on the matter?”

Harry nodded and wiped at his eyes, “But can I have a kiss before we get into any more business?” Draco didn’t know why the question struck him as odd, but Harry must have seen something that looked like doubt.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to--,” Harry countered quickly. Draco stopped the verbal retreat with a kiss that seemed like it should have been shared by life-long lovers, but it felt right, and he hoped it was what Harry had in mind. He pulled away gently.

“I messed everything up the last time we were together, can I have another chance?”

Draco slid his mouth lightly across the shell of Harry’s ear and smirked against the skin. “I’ll need a proper seduction this time. No more of this tossing me on the floor and ruining perfectly good shirts I purchase with the intent to impress,” He purred. Harry shivered, and followed it with a genuine laugh as Draco pulled back and captured the tail end of it in a playful kiss.

“Done,” Harry promised, still smiling. “Now, tell me about your theory.”

“Well, it was really Severus, Minerva and I. It’s based on the blood spell that protected you the first time, because of your mother’s sacrifice.” Harry nodded. “This time it was you who was willing to die for someone else…for all of us. We believe that you reversed what had been done, and broke the bond between you and Voldemort.”

“That might explain why my scar disappeared.” He reached up and ran his fingers over the flawless skin. “Wait. I can test your theory!”

Before he could say anything, Harry reached up and touched the serpent earring in Draco’s left ear. “I love you, Draco.”

Draco sat up straight and stared back at Harry with surprise and awe.

“English, then?”

Draco nodded.

“That proves your theory, I believe. No more Parseltongue.”

“Yes…you love me?”

~*~

It was well into Merrill’s second year at Hogwarts, nearly Halloween, before Poppy allowed Harry to leave the Hospital Wing. When the day finally came, Draco and Merrill walked hand in hand down the corridor after an endless day of lessons to collect him. Draco didn’t know why, but he was holding his breath as they pushed open the door to Harry’s room. He released it quickly when Harry smiled at them both, however, and stepped forward with his cane.

Merrill wrapped her arms around her father. Harry planted a quick kiss into the auburn hair by her temple and asked her to bring his bag that was sitting on the bed. When she ran to retrieve it, Harry brushed his lips softly against Draco’s in a hurried greeting.

“You still alright with the dungeons?” Draco whispered to Harry. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“It’s two Slytherins against a Gryffindor. You can’t win, Dad,” Merrill added as she returned with Harry’s things.

“I guess I don’t have a choice, so you better run ahead and lead the way,” Harry winked as she ran out the door.

To Draco, he still looked weak, but the improvement in his health had been nothing short of a miracle. His magic and balance were almost restored, and his strength would return now that he wasn’t confined to a hospital bed and could move around the castle.

They were going to make it through, and this time, they had each other.

Just before they got to the door, Draco felt something being pressed into his hand, and his fingers instinctively closed around it. He shot a puzzled look over to Harry, who had suddenly found something very interesting on his hand-carved cane to study.

Draco turned his hand over and began unfolding the small bit of parchment.

_I promise to seduce you. Properly._

While Draco was reading, Harry stepped up behind him and rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder.

“I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten.”

There were more pressing matters, people who needed to see them both, reports to be written, a daughter to feed…but right at that moment, Draco couldn’t think of anything except the man wrapping his arms around him, the note closed tight in his palm, and the absence of fear for the future.

~*~  
Audio files:  
[Part One](http://www.sendspace.com/file/1ewukz)  
[Part Two](http://www.sendspace.com/file/jqc1g7)  
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